


Meet My Old Bear

by rothalion



Category: Army Of Two (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothalion/pseuds/rothalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot frets over finally coming clean with the team about his relationship with Rios' favorite Russian mercenary Vasily Tyannikov. Takes place in the Breath of Evil verse. Strong male male sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salt Is the Spice of Life

 

 

**_ Meet My Old Bear _ **

**_ WARNINGS: Mature rating/ M/M pairing/ Strong Sexual content _ **

_ Translation: _

мой сонный Барсук: MysleepyBadger

Мой глупый Барсук: My silly Badger

Небольшой Барсук: Little Badger

**_ Chapter One _ **

**_ Salt Is the Spice of Life _ **

**__ **

**_ SSC Head Quarters _ **

**_ Miami _ **

_Friday May 15 th 1715 Hours_

 

“Whoa Salem, you already cleaned the barrel twice, boy.”

Salem paused, looked at the shiny part of his 1911, and sighed. Rios was correct he had cleaned the part twice; he set it down in its spot on his cleaning mat, and reached for the cleaning oil vial. It was near empty, so he set it aside.

“Hand me your oil Tyse; I’m out. Pedro’s got me some new, special desert environment stuff coming to test, so I’m trying to squeak by till then.”

Rios slid the small vial across the work bench to the smaller man, and studied him.

“You ok. You seem a little out of sorts. Your shooting was for shit today too.”

“I’m good. Just had a bad night; so yea I’m a little out of sorts.”

The admission struck Rios as odd. Elliot never admitted to being anything but one –hundred percent, which meant that because of the admission he was indeed out of sorts.

“Salem I know when you have a bad night, and I know when you are a little out of sorts, and this is a little more than your regular little out of sorts. Put that down you already cleaned that too, and look you left out the Recoil Spring Guide. Elliot, Christ come on Kermit, you fuck that thing up, and you’ll kill us both for sure. Focus.”

Elliot took the gun apart again, and inserted the Recoil Spring Guide. He disliked the 1911, but his little Makarov was in the armory getting a thorough overhaul. Rios was right though he was far more out of sorts then after a typical bad night. He reached for the Barrel, and slid it into the Slide, then clicked on the Barrel Bushing, locked the Slide to the frame, and reattached the Slide Stop. Finally he inserted the Recoil Spring Plug, and began to lock it down. He startled when Rios’ huge paw snatched the weapon from his hands, and then he jumped a bit when Rios slammed it down, on the work bench hard enough to make the cleaning oil vials hop, and tip like slaughtered soldiers.

“Recoil Spring first, moron; you forgot the Recoil Spring. Christ Salem what’s with you man. Here, let me, or we’ll never get out of here in time to get home, and showered and shit before heading to the bar.”

Disgusted with himself Salem slumped back on his stool, his hands in his lap, and watched Rios expertly re-field strip the 1911 back into its eight parts, then reassemble it properly. It was a task Salem could do blind, exhausted, and with one hand, but he’d just managed to muck it up four different ways.

“Here, now it’s correct.” Rios snapped handing it back to the sullen man. “Everybody’s showin’ up around seven. Don’t be late.”

“Samantha still coming?”

The question raised Tyson’s concern, and he looked across at Elliot as they packed up their gear, and sighed. It didn’t make sense that he’d be so edgy just because Samantha was going out with them. Sure they hated one another, but when they all went out together there was always enough distraction to keep them occupied, and out of one another’s hair. Whatever was bugging Elliot was far beyond Samantha. Unless, that is, if something had occurred that Rios was unaware of. They’d planned the special night out in May for weeks. It was a sort of squad anniversary, birthday, and wedding anniversary celebration for the team. So many of them celebrated several important events in May that after years and years of one party after another Salem had come up with _the one big night out for all of them_ plan. This was the first one, and Salem had looked forward to it with his usual enthusiasm, until that day. Now he seemed on the verge of falling apart. He had nothing to worry about as far as the gathering went. They were all just getting together in their favorite hang out to exchange gifts and drink. So Rios was at a loss, and worried. When Salem couldn’t manage a weapon something was seriously amiss with the man.

“Course she is. Our anniversary’s in May too, and her birthday and Nala’s. Why, something I need to know about?”

Elliot stood, and slid his gear bag and gun case off of the table.

“No, just…I’ll be on time; I always am right.”

“Right. Ok then, Ellie I’ll see you there.”

 

*

**_ Salem’s Apartment _ **

_Friday May 15 th 1815 Hours_

 

Back home Elliot set about getting ready for the evening festivities. It had been his idea to lump all the celebrations into one night. He never missed any of the team’s birthdays, or their wives’ birthdays, or their kids’, or any of their anniversaries, and scheduling so many parties in one month, and delivering the gifts while not overlooking someone drove him crazy. So a few weeks ago he’d brought up the idea of the one big celebration, and to his amazement the guys leapt at the chance to consolidate the parties. The adults were celebrating that evening, Friday evening, and then on Sunday there would be a mass birthday party out at Rios’ place for Mother’s Day, and for five kids, all born in May, three of them in the same year, only a week or so apart. Salem always chided the men about it; saying it was no longer a secret what they all did as soon as they returned from an op. They obviously hit the showers, and then the sack with their wives, and fucked like bunnies to make babies.

He grabbed two bottles of beer from his refrigerator, and headed for the shower trying to calm his anxiety. As he let the hot water sooth his aching muscles he played back the events of the previous Saturday night in his mind’s eye. These were the events that were the basis of his current anxiety. He let the memory flit through his head, all while swearing to shower and only shower, and not partake in any of the acts of self pleasure that he tended to whenever he thought about the big Russian while bathing.

*

**_ Vasily Tyannikov’s Home _ **

**_ Miami _ **

_Saturday May 9 th 1840 Hours_

“Barsukh how are potatoes? Oil is all even, around them, and the herbs all even, no clumps?” Vasily asked looking across the large, Red Onyx kitchen island work space to where Salem was clumsily tossing a large bowl of small, red potatoes with two Cedar salad forks trying to coat the elusive potatoes in extra virgin olive oil, and home grown herbs. He glowered up at Vasily, and continued his tossing.

“I have it; it’s a gimme Old Bear, no worries.”

“Da, da good.”

For the briefest moment Vasily, questioning his cooking skills, angered Elliot. Then, he reminded himself that this was, after all, Vasily, and not Rios with his constant scolding, and that the question was just that, a simple question, and not an affront to his lack of adeptness in the kitchen. He continued his tossing while recollecting how he’d ended up in Tyannikov’s beach side villa’s Mediterranean kitchen.

Six months ago, when Salem returned from Oia, and informed him of his desire to finally enter into his life completely, Vasily Tyannikov immediately purchased the four bedroom, beach front, Mediterranean style villa, and had the place gutted. He prayed that Elliot’s love for the sea would make his moving in a bit easier. It did not, and Vasily, worried for their relationship, backed Salem into a corner, and made him decide what he ultimately wanted from life. Salem finally committed to their union, and bolstered by that, he and Elliot spent the next few weeks choosing colors, and surfaces to re do every room. At just over 3800 square feet, under air it wasn’t a mansion, but it was more than either of them had ever had, and for Vasily it was a top priority that Salem be involved with every aspect of the extensive renovation. This would be, after all, their fresh beginning.

They’d begun in the kitchen, which was huge, and the nearly six foot, by eight foot rectangular shaped island where they now worked over their dinner didn’t make a dent in it. To Vasily’s surprise and joy Salem, after some initial tentativeness, finally embraced the renovation, and fought vigorously for his choices. They’d sat together late into the evening drinking, and pouring through catalogues, and computer sites in search of just the right counter top materials and flooring. Salem finally settled upon decorating the gourmet kitchen with Red Onyx counter tops, Montauk Black slate tile from Brazil for the flooring, and solid Oak; hand crafted, coffee color stained cabinetry. The back splash was also Red Onyx, but of a slightly lighter variation. Vasily had, at first, balked at using the Red Onyx instead of the more common Granite, or Marble, but once the salesman assured him of the materials attributes he caved to Elliot’s wishes.

The Red Onyx topped island sported a triple sink of the same material, extra deep, with three varieties of faucets. A four burner Induction range, with a custom designed, and hand crafted copper and stainless steel hood above it allowed for quick cooking, and great energy savings. There was triple oven, and a second gas range with a matching hood along the south wall, as well as a wood fired oven along the outer wall that was back to back, with the outside grill pit sharing a chimney. The refrigerator was the one item that Vasily refused to bend to Elliot’s choice for. The man had wanted a huge, computerized monstrosity that could damn near cook and clean. In the end they settled upon a nice, large, Stainless steel, double door Sub Zero fridge with a wine cooling compartment, which baffled Vasily, because Elliot hated wine.

Then finally, after four long months of nearly around the clock work, seven days per week, the renovation company completed the project, and Vasily moved into his first American property. All it lacked was Salem, and that was Vasily’s next priority. He needed to get the younger man to take the final step, and introduce themselves to the team as a _couple_ so that they could move forward. He knew, though, that just as with the house renovation, relationships took time to build, and as for theirs, and Salem’s and Rios’ they were undergoing far more than a simple renovation. He halted his reflections and set the bowl on the shiny counter.

“Ok all done, and all even. Potatoes are all ok. Here check me out, it, well them out.” Salem replied in a very soft prideful voice

The comment drew Vasily from his own mental gymnastics, and he cursed himself for allowing his confusion over why Elliot was so anxious about just telling his friends about the coming changes to their relationship to clutter their evening with worry. They’d been over Elliot’s fears, and concerns, but nothing Vasily said seemed to quell the younger man’s nerves. He truly believed that Elliot was ready to introduce him as his partner, and move into their home; he just needed to give him just the right bit of a push without scaring him off.

Vasily set aside the pork loin he was stuffing with the same mixture of herbs from their patio garden, and looked into the large ceramic bowl.

“Good, is good Barsukh, you are getting better. Put this down now, and get roasting pan from closet, there under the stove. Then spread potatoes and Eggplant cubes even across it, and set aside. Then it’s time to slice the cucumbers, they will add nice flavor. Slice carefully, just like I showed you, da.”

Salem followed the instructions wordlessly, returned to the kitchen island with three cucumbers, and began to slice them carefully into eighth inch wide slices. Vasily snipped the final bit of excess butcher string from the stuffed loin, and looked over at Salem’s work. Before he could speak Salem did.

“You ever cooked one of those before, Old Bear?” He asked, sipping from his beer, finishing the last cucumber, and sliding into a comfortable stool across from the big Russian.

He enjoyed watching Vasily work at cooking. He enjoyed Rios cooking for him as well, but with Vasily something was slightly different about it. He enjoyed watching Vasily more. It confused him. After a lifetime of having to do for himself he found great joy in having someone do tasks, like cooking, _for_ him. The food just tasted better, smelled nicer, and he tended to eat more of it. It was, he felt, something he’d earned. It wasn’t due to laziness that he liked things done for him. He just simply loved to have simple chores done for him. It was a trait he and Rios had often fought over. What Rios considered as lazy ineptness, Salem considered a simple pleasure. Salem knew that Rios cooked for him, because it was means to get him to eat better. Vasily conversely, at least in Elliot’s opinion, did it because of the sheer pleasure of seeing him enjoy the food, and seeing how Salem liked watching his preparations. The act of Vasily cooking for him held no sense of guilt, or shame in it, as so often Rios’ did, which made Elliot feel guilty and insufficient. If pressed Salem would have to admit that Rios cooked so that he would eat, and be strong enough, and fit enough to fight, but Vasily cooked, quite simply, because he loved him. That, though, was an admission still too raw, and fresh, and scary for Elliot to embrace. Tyannikov’s answering his question brought him from his reverie.

“Of course Barsukh, it’s a simple dish, just a Pork loin, stuffed with a little bacon and our herbs. Basil, Thyme, Mint, Oregano and Black Pepper and a Shallot. Just need to be careful, sear first, cook slow, and don’t let it toughen, or become dry. Ok now, though, the salt; very important the cooking salt, and the finishing salt. Not quite only finishing, but…It is special, and very good. You know Gareth, Dabi’s Gareth; he showed me this salt. Forget all the rest; this is Apple Wood Smoked Sea Salt from Maine.”

Then Salem watched as Vasily delicately pressed, and shuffled the salt granules between his thumb and index finger, carefully sprinkling it on all of the loin’s surfaces. Vasily seasoned the meat with great care, and Salem reveled in Tyannikov’s odd deftness with the salt.

“Salt’s, salt, though right, seriously Sily it’s just salt? Don’t care for it much so…” Salem muttered abstractedly looking away from Vasily’s ministrations over his shoulder, through the sliding glass doors to watch several Sea gulls flit about on their terrace. “Damned Gulls make such a mess. Gonna buy one a those big Hawk statues and run the fuckers off.”

“Taste.”

Salem looked across the Red Onyx kitchen island at Tyannikov, and watched worriedly as he licked his right index finger, dabbed it into the mound of beige, and coffee colored salt crystals, before extending the coated finger towards him.

“Taste it.” The man prodded again.

Then the salt encrusted finger was there. Big as could be, inches from Elliot’s face. A taste of intimacy, a taste of the future, of just how close they’d become lingered before his slightly quivering lips. Overwhelmed, Salem hesitated. Taking Vasily’s finger into his mouth was too, too something, and he struggled to ignore the unwanted wave of sensations thrumming through his body. Since becoming intimate with Vasily his entire sexual mind set had become skewed, and he became, much to his dismay, aroused at the least little prodding from the man.

“A little strange sucking, licking your finger, Old Bear. I…well… like, fine ok, I’ll just taste your icky finger”

“Just taste salt, Barsukh.”

Orders were after all orders; so Salem leaned across the Red Onyx barrier on his elbows, and wrapping his lips around Vasily’s slightly twisted, proffered finger he lapped up the salt.

“Well?”

“Apples and smoke, and hickory, and Autumn. Fall….da, Sily. It’s wonderful. Tastes like you, us, winter maybe, well maybe not, but it’s good, great really. Nice. I’m surprised.”

“Da, Barsukh, da surprise is good thing. Now you. Just like Vasily showed you. Salt your Potatoes and Egg Plant.”

The dinner went well, and after washing the dishes, Vasily didn’t like the dishwasher, they settled in for the evening out on their terrace. The air was balmy, but the snappy sea breeze kept them cool, and the whisper of the waves filled the evening with a restive ambience. This was what Vasily wanted. He’d patiently waited for so many years to have a life with Elliot, and to be so close pained him. But he knew that, for all of his toughness, Elliot was actually very fragile. The house was completed, Salem was spending more and more time there so he would just need to be patient. He looked over at Salem, and noted that he was dozing. Rios drove the team hard never relenting on their training. It was a necessary task, but as usual Elliot, having to work twice as hard as the larger men, had taken a beaten again. The previous day’s twenty mile ruck march on the beach and through a miserable swampy area with full packs, following a solid week of continual, fourteen hour days of urban search and rescue training had exhausted Elliot.

“Come, мойсонныйБарсук, let’s get you to bed.”

Salem groaned and stretched. He was beat, and felt badly about it too. He knew that Vasily treasured their time together, and he hated to disappoint him by knocking out so early. Tyannikov read his thought, and smiled. Then standing, he crossed to Elliot, and reached out to him to help him up from the Chaise Lounge that he favored.

“Come, no worries, Vasily is tired too. Come on.”

In the bedroom, their bedroom, the idea still gave Salem a case of anxiety, Vasily turned down the thick down filled comforter on the king sized bed.

“Out in a few, just gonna take a quick rinse.”

“Ok Barsukh; not too long, or you will wake up.”

“Little chance of that.” He mumbled, and headed into the large master bath that they’d chosen to decorate in Volga Blue Granite from Ukraine.

The Point of Use water heater allowed for instant hot water, and in less than ten minutes Salem had rinsed, dried, and was crawling into the soft bed alongside Vasily. The bigger man turned off the bedside lamp, drew the cool sheet up over their legs, and rolled onto his left side to study Salem in the dim, syrupy glow of the underwater pool lights outside of the bedroom’s twin sets of French doors.

Salem lay on his back with his left arm draped across his forehead, and his right resting on his muscled stomach. He seemed troubled, but Vasily knew better than to push for a reason, and was content to simply watch him think. After ten minutes when Salem still had not rolled onto his left side to sleep Vasily caved in.

“Troubles?” He prodded in a quiet voice while reaching out and brushing a lose strand of hair back behind Salem’s right ear.

“Not sure what to do’s all.”

“About what, Barsukh?”

“Can we go tomorrow to the Home Depot, and buy one a those big Hawk or Owl statues, Vasily, the Gulls are really making a mess.”

Vasily smiled, he was well versed in Elliot’s verbal meanderings when he was worried or frightened.

“Da, two maybe three will be good. The biggest they have. Those sea birds, they are not small.”

“No, not small.” He replied licking his lips, which reminded him of the salt tasting and concerned where that memory led his thoughts he furrowed his brow. “I’m too fucking small though; Rios tried to kill my skinny little bitch ass last week, Old Bear. Jesus Christ, and fuck me twice. Twenty miles through the sand, and a swamp, what’s he thinking?” he squeaked.

“Next op is in bad country, Небольшой Барсук. He needs for you to be strong, ready for it.”

“He’s trying to kill me.” He whined theatrically.

Vasily chuckled lightly. One of Salem’s most endearing traits was his ability to bemoan his situation with great flourish. What made the entire exchange even more ridiculous was that Tyannikov knew that neither the Sea Gulls, or Rios’ training regime were the real problem.

“He loves your little skinny bitch ass too much to kill you. Me though, me, poor Vasily, he would kill in a half heart beat.”

Salem groaned, and flopped his right arm across his face covering his eyes.

“Ouch, fuckin’ shoulder’s killing me again. God damned seventy-five pound ruck.”

“Tomorrow, after great big bird hunting trip, I will give you good whole body massage.”

“Oh god no, Old Bear, don’t; just don’t, just don’t, just don’t. First the salty finger, and now you want to touch my whole body with slippery oil, and then what’s next. I know what’s next you god damned horny, fucking manipulative Russian, bastard. Just don’t.”

“What’s the troubles this time, Barsukh? Говорите с Vasily. Talk to Vasily.”

“This is the problem!”

Before Vasily could react Salem rolled to his right, grasped Vasily’s head in his hands, and kissed him forcefully for several seconds before breaking away. He sat up in the bed on his knees, threw his arms out to his sides, again wincing when his right shoulder pained him, and started babbling.

“I don’t know how to, to want you, to, to tell you I want to, to… and I have, ever since your god damned ‘Taste my finger Barsukh’ scene, wanted to fuck you. Badly wanted to just fuck you senseless.”

Vasily stared at him wide eyed, and fought with every fiber of his body not to burst into raucous laughter. It was painfully true that in the months since they’d begun having sex Salem had never come even remotely close to initiating it. He was a sensual, careful lover, and drank up Vasily’s affection like a man coming out of a long march across a barren desert; so the big Russian didn’t doubt that at times Salem desired him, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he didn’t have to confidence to ask.

“Well?” He squawked indignantly. “Do I send a request by one a those god damned, filthy Sea Gulls, or what? They do that in some countries you know, use birds to send notes. I saw it on National Geographic. You’re the smart one, the educated in the ways of sex, and getting sex one, you finally got me; so…well, how?”

Vasily tried to come up with a reply that Salem wouldn’t find condescending. He had to have initiated sex with someone at some time at least once, hadn't he have? Vasily pondered it, and suddenly it was all too painfully clear, and the look of utter terror and confusion on Salem’s face clinched his assessment of the situation. Puzzle pieces clicked into place, and he finally saw a more complete picture of Elliot in his mind’s eye. Things the guys had said, hints that Elliot had dropped; in the bed kneeling over him wasn’t just a man unfamiliar with making love to another man, as he’d originally thought, but a man who was apparently, despite the rumors and gossip was sexually naïve and submissive. He needed to handle the situation carefully.

“Just ask, Barsukh. Just do what you did. Just reach out,” He reached up, drew Salem’s right hand forward, and pressed it against his left cheek. “Just lean in, and kiss me, just say Vasily hold me, love me.”

Salem was frozen. His eyes wide, and his lips, slightly parted, were trembling. His chest heaved with desire and fear. He pulled his hand back, and blinked three or four times as if trying to clear away a frightening thought.

“What if you say no?” His voice was small, fractured and defeated; barely a whisper, but the pain he was feeling was evident. Rios loved him too, but had denied him, and the memory hurt. He hated the sting of rejection, and feared that Vasily’s would be even more crushing.

Tyannikov’s heart broke. Before him was a man whose courage, even in the gravest most hopeless scenarios, was above any reproach. Whose confidence was beyond question, who had done, on more occasions than were tally able, feats that most men would have run from, even at the risk of leaving their mates behind to die. But here he knelt, an utter wreck, because he was so terrified of rejection that his fear paralyzed him, preventing him from initiating something as benign as having sex with the person whom he loved, and loved him.

“Easy Barsukh, easy.” Vasily crooned rising to his knees, and moving to within inches of Salem. “Just ask. Just reach out, and touch me, kiss me, rub my shoulder, just ask. And if I don’t feel the mood, I will tell you, and there is not hurt or shame.”

“I want to make love to, with you, I need you Old Bear. Stupid lick my finger.”

Then he leaned in, and again kissed Vasily, but this time gentler, and with more skill. Vasily returned the kiss, and grasped him by his hips drawing him closer. Finally Elliot wrapped his arms around Vasily waist, digging his fingers into his taut ass, and they began to grind against each other. Vasily pulled away to slow the game a bit, and Salem nearly screamed at the loss of contact with the man’s hard cock and muscled body. Vasily smiled and grinned.

“What a needy little ass bitch you have become, Barsukh.”

“Your fault.” He said hoarsely as he pushed Vasily roughly backwards, and down onto the bed before dragging off the man’s boxers. “Taste my salty finger, fuck me, fuck me twice Old Bear.”

Elliot straddled Vasily pushed his arms above his head, leaned in, and ran his tongue around his nipples suckling them into hard, bronze nubs before moving upwards and attacking the man’s throat with wet hungry kisses, his stubble meshing with Vasily and pulling a bit. Then he shifted down again, lazily licking and nibbling his way across Vasily’s stomach, teasing his tongue along the firm hills of Vasily’s abs and down through the trail of fine black hairs pulling at them with his teeth. Then he nipped, and licked along the ridges of Vasily’s hip bones before gingerly sipping away the dollop of pre-cum, greedily swallowing Vasily’s cock to his balls, and sucking him aggressively. Vasily snared Elliot’s long hair in his fists, and guided his thrusts. No one had ever sucked his cock like Elliot did. The man had no bounds, and Vasily craved the feel of his cock sliding in and out of the younger man’s clenching throat. Just before Vasily came, Elliot sat up, and Tyannikov growled in frustration. Salem silenced his complaint.

“Fuck me Old Bear.” He said pinching his own nipples, and stroking himself, spreading his own slick fluid over, and round the plum hued head of his cock desperate not to lose even a moment of the sensations he was experiencing. “Slow, deep, until you come in my ass.” Then he rolled pulling Vasily on top of himself, and grabbed a vial.

Vasily growled low in his throat again. Salem had never been so aggressive, or assertive before. He loved this new twist in the man’s demeanor, and hoped it wasn’t an isolated occurrence.

“Oil,” Salem hissed, “Sandalwood and Mint.”

After pouring some of the fragrant liquid into Vasily’s palm, and then into his own Elliot slathered Vasily’s cock as Vasily spread him wide, and pushed his right leg upward hooking it round his own left shoulder. Slowly, he sleeved one, then two fingers into Elliot’s ass wiggling, and teasing at the smaller man’s prostrate driving him to squirm and moan; then with a long, forceful, cautious thrust he pressed his thick cock forward and in. Needing more, Elliot drove his hips upward taking Vasily’s cock into his ass to the man’s balls. Driven by the look of sheer need in Elliot’s eyes Vasily forgot the kid gloves, cut loose, and just fucked him. Elliot came screaming Vasily’s name, tears running down his cheeks as Tyannikov slammed over, and over into his clenching ass. Finally Elliot felt a familiar shudder ripple through Tyannikov, and ramming upwards crushed a blinding orgasm out of his twitching cock, milking him until they collapsed, and lay trembling in a heap, tangled and spent.

After a time Tyannikov slipped from the mussed bed, and went into the bathroom for a cloth to clean them up. Salem was sprawled out, a languid mess, on his back in the center of the bed. Vasily knelt over him, and gently washed away the results of their ardor. Then he tossed the soiled cloth aside, stretched out alongside Elliot, scooped him closer, and rested his sweat soaked head on his broad chest before dragging the sheets up and over them.

“Was ok, Barsukh, not to rushed? Vasily is sorry, you were just so…got carried away Barsukh.”

“Was ok. In the morning, before we go big bird hunting, we can do it again slow.” Salem muttered sleepily while rubbing his thumb forward and back across a ragged bullet wound scar on Vasily’s right upper thigh.

Vasily laughed, and Salem reveled in hearing it through the big man’s chest. The deep rumble reminded him of Rios, and for a moment his gut hitched. Vasily noted the twinge of tension, and kissed the top of his head before lifting it by Elliot’s stubbled chin to make eye contact.

“Stop trembling. Still you are troubled. Again I tell you, Говорите с Vasily, Barsukh. Talk to Vasily, Barsukh.”

“Next Friday we’re having my _May All In One Party_ at Xavier’s Pub. Everyone. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m ready, Sily. We go together, and then I move in here.”

He sat up on his elbows, and hovered over the larger man. Vasily read terror, resignation and determination as well as guilt in his hazel eyes. They were glassy with unshed tears, and Tyannikov knew full well just how major of a decision Elliot was making.

“You, you’ll come with me right. As in us, an us together us. It will be like adding our anniversary to the others. I always wanted one you know, of my own. I’ve taken care of all the others’ for so long, and now I want it for me too. It won’t be like for our first time, from back in Osijek, but we can have that for our private one, and, but if, if he hates me after…”

“Ah no, no tears, Мой глупый Барсук no tears. No hate. The Fat One gave blessing months ago in Oia; he is man of his word.”

“If Tyse…if he, he can’t, doesn’t… Sily you have to swear, swear to me you’ll keep me. I can’t, can’t be all alone. Swear to me, Старый Медведь, Old Bear swear it.”

Vasily pulled Elliot’s face into the crook of his neck, wrapped his huge arms around him, and squeezed. He felt so much pride in Elliot at that moment that words would have proven empty; so he just held on and squeezed.

“I swear my beautiful Little Elliot, I swear. I will never leave you, I swear.”

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. 2 The Bear's Out of The Bag

_-2-_

**_ The Bear’s Out of the Bag _ **

 

“Oh my fucking god. No wonder that little fucker was all torqued all day. Would you look at that shit? No wonder he’s fucking late. He was delaying his certain and untimely death.”

At the sound of Heckler’s voice, the group all looked up from watching Tyson take a pool shot, and focused on the door. They’d all arrived, with exception of Salem, at Xavier’s Pub at the designated hour, which was now nearly an hour ago, and Rios had done nothing but grumble that the younger man was late. Heckler’s observation would be the answer that Rios had been searching for.

Across the room, stepping into the dark bar, and threading his way confidently through the throng of people was Elliot with Vasily Tyannikov at his side. Rios straightened to his full height, and set the pool cue down very gingerly on the red topped billiards table. If Salem was trying to test him he was succeeding. Rios stepped back toward the large table the group occupied, picked up his beer, and took a long sip while watching the pair complete their journey across the crowded room.

Salem, Tyson noted, was dressed quite smartly. He never dressed up unless an op required it. But tonight, he’d chosen jet black, snug fitting jeans with supple brown boots, a deep burgundy pull over with a narrow gray color stripe topping the collar, and a black, wool, two buttoned, single breasted casual jacket. He had to admit the younger man was handsome, and carrying himself with an air of confidence not typical for him. Vasily too, was dressed well. The big Russian wore all black. Black tailored jeans topped with a black turtle neck sweater, and capped by a black woolen Pea Coat. The striking duo couldn’t help but garner the attention of the crowd.

Fearing for Salem’s life, Heckler slid from his seat, and halted them just shy of getting all the way to the table. He held out his hands, and pressed his palms into Salem’s chest. Then, he lifted each of the black jacket’s lapels, and whistled between his teeth.

“This kit must a set you back what…a buck or two, or three large, Fifty. Fuck me,” he stated leaning back and further studying Salem’s attire. “Karl Lagerfeld, nice.”

“Step off Heck, and do I want to know why or how you know that?”

Heckler released him, and stepped back slightly, grinning, “GQ, what can I say, when a man’s in the shitter he does need something to distract him, and what’s better than to gawk at handsomely attired men. Right, Fifty?”

“Fuck off, Heckler!”

“Manners, manners, Fifty, and you, just look at you Mr. Vasily Tyannikov, what have we here? Ah, Armani, I love Armani. Defiantly suits you too, all tall dark and ruggedly, Russian-ly handsome," He continued, reaching out to touch the lapels of the big Russian’s black Pea Coat. Tyannikov slapped his hands away, and scowled at him, “Hey, I’m right, it’s Armani, just tell ’em all, I’m right. I know my suits and ties. It’s my old buddies I guess I’m a bit dense about.”

Salem having, had enough, pushed around the giggling man, and with Tyannikov in tow went to the head of the long table where the ladies and the rest of the men, Tyson now included, patiently awaited the tardy couple. Heckler slid back into his spot, tossed his arm around his wife Zoe’s shoulders, and smiled up wickedly at Elliot.

“Sorry I’m, well we’re late. Guys you all know Vasily, and you too Murray, but I guess for the rest of you, well in a way all of you,” he paused took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut tight trying to push the vision of Rios’ scowl from sight, “I’d like, this is…this is Vasily, and I’d like you to…” he put his arm around Vasily’s narrow waist, opened his eyes, scanned the gaping group, and after sighing again plunged forward, “I’d like, like you to meet my Vasily. This is…just please meet my Old Bear.”

Vasily wrapped his left arm around Salem’s shoulders, and pulled him close. Very close, and as Tyson noted, very protectively.

“I am Vasily; it’s a pleasure to finally meet all of you wonderful ladies. Salem tells me many fine things about all of you. Well, except you Alice Murray. You he bitches about incessantly.”

The comment garnered a round of nervous laughter, and then Secour launched from his seat, and embraced Elliot tightly after separating him from Vasily.

“Good for you, Elliot, good for you,” He whispered hoarsely in his ear, “It’s about god damned fucking time too. Come on, come sit, sit Vasily, you too, welcome, and for the first time in too fucking many years Fifty, be part of our celebrations.”

He shoved Salem down into the chair that awaited him, and then dashed to a neighboring one and grabbed an extra for Vasily. The big Russian removed the Pea Coat, slid into it, and tucked it a bit closer to the table.

“Elliot, are you going to introduce _us_ to your very handsome partner? No beer until you do.” Zoe chided.

“Oh, yea, sorry,” he muttered shyly, “Vasily, this is Heckler you know that, and the mouthy woman beside him is his doting wife Zoe, And you know Giddy, and this is his stern wife Gwen, Gwen meet Vasily. Tyson you’ve met, and that is his wonderful wife Samantha. Secour you know, and that’s Zac his partner who you know too. And Pedro you know, and that’s his super wife Maria, he has four and a half kids she has to be super. Finally there’s Murray, and her new boy toy Alphonso. Everybody this is Vasily, and he’s mine. That good? Yo, Hillary, my wonderful server lady, get what everybody’s drinking, and a bottle of Stoli on ice, and glasses all around, please and thanks. Here, run me a tab.”

Hillary delivered the round of drinks, and the conversation picked back up. Elliot still hadn’t had words with Rios, and Vasily was beginning to worry that the two would come to blows if somehow the ice between the pair wasn’t broken.

“Samantha,” he broke in, “How about a little game of pool? You and the Fat One there, against myself and Barsukh. You have look of lady who knows way around pool table.”

To the utter shock of the group Samantha leapt at the offer. She stood, and made her way around the table grabbing a scowling Tyson by his huge shoulders, and tugging him along.

“I do, and I’d love to. Come along Ty; I’m sure we can take them. I know Elliot’s good, but I shoot a good game as well.”

Tyson followed her recalcitrantly back to the pool table, and retrieved his cue stick. Salem, nudged along by Vasily, joined the couple after choosing sticks from the rack on the wall.

“Roll ball for break?”

“That’s fine. You first, Vasily.”

“Thank you Samantha.”

Vasily set the cue ball down carefully, took aim, and sent it rolling very slowly across the long red surface. It hit the far rail, rolled back three-quarters of an inch, and stopped. Samantha chose the two ball from the rack, and repeated the process. Her ball rolled very slowly, and stopped just touching the far rail.

“Da, nicely done. The Rios’ break.”

Samantha broke dropping the two and five balls. She shot again and missed on the three. Vasily stepped up, and after talking briefly with Elliot made the eleven, ten and fourteen balls before missing on the twelve. Samantha told Rios, who was the weakest of the group, to play it safe, and hit their one ball easy at the side pocket. If he missed, she explained, Salem would be snookered behind it for the thirteen, which he needed to set up a run on the eight ball to win it. Rios took her advice, ignoring Heckler’s taunts that she wore the pants in the family, and just as she’d figured he missed, and Salem was buried.

“A fucking leave playing fat bastard you are, Tyse. Damn it!”

“Watch language, Barsukh. Take shot, she won’t run it out.”

“The fuck she won’t,” Elliot snapped back, while studying the table from the end where the cue ball retrieval hole was. “Twelve ball, bam, bam, bam, bam off a four rails; back to here in the corner pocket,” He stated confidently, patting the corner pocket to his right. “Watch the master, and weep, ladies.”

Then, leaning down he lined up the seemingly impossible shot, took a smooth, but firm stroke with the cue stick, and set the white ball into motion. It hit the right rail just beyond the side pocket, tapped the far end rail just left of that corner pocket, rolled left, narrowly skipping passed Rios’ one ball, hit the left rail mid-way between the far left corner pocket and left side pocket, and then finally, rolled toward the waiting twelve. It nicked the ball and the rail at the same time, and the twelve trickled into the pocket. The cue ball continued along, hit the rail just in front of Elliot, and rolled forward and to his left just far enough to give him a nice shot on their fifteen ball.

“Fifteen, side pocket.” He declared, quickly taking the shot, “Thirteen, back here, one rail, and yup, eight ball side pocket there.”

“That is backwards cut, Barsukh,” Vasily warned “play safe no? Run it down to corner.”

“I am playing it safe, that shot I can make blindfolded.”

“Nicely played, Elliot.”

“Well, thank you, Samantha.”

They played another game with Rios and Vasily as a team, and Samantha playing with Elliot. This game took a bit longer, but the competitive banter broke the ice somewhat, which is what Vasily had hoped for. After they sat back down Tyson excused himself to use the bathroom, and Giddy followed him.

Once inside Giddy grabbed Rios by his elbow.

“Before you start threatening me, Phil, can I piss?”

“Yea.”

Giddy waited leaning against the sinks. He’d be damned if he was going to allow Rios to show his ass about Elliot and Vasily. He knew that any miss-step no matter how small that one of them made, might de-rail what the two men were building.

“What?” Rios snapped over his shoulder while washing his hands.

“Did you know about this?”

“Yes and no. I think we all knew about this, we just were hoping we were wrong.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Yea, in a way he did, but that’s between us. Let’s go to the bar. We can talk and order the next round. This is creepy.”

Giddy followed him out of the men’s room, and to the far end of the long bar away from the group’s table. They plopped down on two empty stools, and waited for the bar tender.

“We talked in Oia. He pretty much told me, that if I wasn’t going to pony up, then he was closing that book and moving on. That he just didn’t feel comfortable with women, that he was tired of being alone. I really didn’t think he’d act on it though. It’s fucking Salem. He’s always full of grand plans that he doesn’t follow through with.”

“You knew it was Tyannikov?”

“Who the fuck else, Phil. It’s always been about that mean fuck. I just, I just don’t get it.”

“What’s to get, Tyson?”

“He beat him to a pulp.”

“Once, and that was, just as Vasily has explained, on a very bad night, during a very dark time for him. You conversely, you are continually hurting him. You don’t even know that you do it sometimes.”

“Then, he’s a moron for sticking with me I guess. Get me fifteen Stella Atois in a bucket, put it on my tab, Rios yes, thanks.”      

“That’s harsh buddy. He loves you. He’s not a moron.”

“He’s just doing this shit to jerk my chain. If I ditched Sam, and showed up at his door tomorrow, he’d kick that fucking Russian to the curb, and take me in a heartbeat! But, like I told him, that dog don’t fucking hunt. Grab the beers let’s go.”

The evening passed along in amicable joviality. Everyone seemed to like Vasily and he was the consummate gentleman. He danced with all of the ladies and chatted with all of men. All except Tyson who was doing his best not to drag Elliot into the bathroom and throttle him. That tension was felt by everyone, and it was Alice that took the big man to task while dancing with him, and basically ordered him to talk to Elliot.

“You need to acknowledge this, Tyson. You need to let him know you accept this.”

“He knows.”

“Does he? Look at him, he’s trying so hard not to show any amount of intimacy with Vasily, and it’s killing him. He see us, he sees M.I.T. and Zac, and he’s waiting for your okay before he’ll join in. He deserves this, Tyson. He’s been alone long enough. I’d like to think you’re a big enough man, and a good enough friend that you can put aside your issues with Vasily, and just let Salem have what he needs. After all Rios, look at the bullshit he tolerates over Samantha, and Vasily has never given you anywhere near that kind of grief.”

“What do you want me to say to him?”

“Tell him you’re happy for him. Tell him that you love him. Hell, Tyson, make a toast to them. I don’t care just as long as you come on board in front of everyone. He’s waiting for your approval.”

Tyson watched her walk back toward the table. Samantha replaced her on the dance floor, and dragged him out for the next song. He grunted at her, fully knowing she was going to press the issue as well.

“I know, I need to tell him I’m good with this.”

“You do, Tye. He needs to hear it from you in front of all of us. Besides, now that he has his Russian maybe he’ll finally cut you lose, and I’ll have you all to myself. My parents are going to freak out, and try twice as hard to keep him, well them away from Nala, but oh well, they tolerate Secour, so.”

“Why’s it always about you, Sam?”

“It’s about us, Tye. We’ve carried him long enough. Just give the little bitch your blessing, and then we can get on with poor lives. Besides, I’d kill to see them kiss.”

The song ended, and he walked her back to the table. Salem and Vasily were absent, and Pedro seeing his questioning look spoke up.

“At the bar, they went for another round. You talk to him yet?”

“Not you too, just leave it alone. Heckler, silence, and yes M.I.T. and Zac I have heard you all loud and clear. Fuck.”

Then, he turned and made his way to where the two men were leaning on the bar waiting for their order. As he approached them from behind, he watched Vasily wrap his left arm around Salem’s shoulders and pull him close. It wasn’t really anything more than a quick manly embrace, but knowing the change in the pair’s status, seeing it ratcheted up Rios’ ire. Talk to him, what was he supposed to say?

Undeterred, he sidled up alongside of the big Russian, and nodded for him to give them some time. After Rios claimed his and Salem’s drinks, Vasily took the new bucket of beers, and Tyson motioned for Elliot to follow him to an empty booth.

“Cheers.” Rios said once they’d sat down, “You do look damned nice Elliot, I mean it.”

“Thanks Tyse, you too.”

“Not the same though. You don’t usually dress up, so yea you look good. Thanks for the party too. This all in one party was a perfect solution.”

“Does simplify things. I’m sorry, Tyse.”

Rios flinched at the mumbled words, Salem’s voice had broken a bit; he was coming apart. They were so close, too close, and Rios felt Salem’s pain, confusion and fear acutely. He read in the simple statement far more than Elliot had said. He knew that the next words would be the hardest Elliot would ever speak, but because he loved him so fiercely, he’d speak them. Before he could silence Salem, the smaller man spat them out.

“End it. I’ll just tell him I can’t, that I changed my mind, that I can’t defy you, that…That’s not gonna happen, Tyse. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it, Elliot. I’m okay. Just surprised is all. Like I told you in Oia, it’s your life, go live it.”

Rios cringed, that sounded almost accusatory, and he saw that Elliot took it as such.

“No, I mean if this is what makes you happy take it, because like I said Elliot, I can’t go there with you.”

“Then, it’s all settled, and we’re good, us.”

“Yea, we’re good, us. We should get back. He’ll get all jealous on my fat ass, and then we’ll have a situation.”

Salem stood up, and slid from the booth. As he stepped out, Rios pulled him into an embrace.

“Love you, Ellie. I always will.”

Salem returned the promise, but for the first time, somewhere deep in his heart he couldn’t help but fear that Rios’ promise was less than completely genuine.

They returned to the group, and Salem took his seat beside Vasily. Before the conversation could get fully wound up again, Rios called for a toast. He stood up, looked down at Salem, and once the younger man made eye contact he began.

“I just want to thank you Elliot for this great night. Thank you Elliot, and for all the past years that you have honored our special occasions. I also want to congratulate him and Vasily on their new life. Elliot you’ve been alone for as long as we’ve all known you. You have us sure, but it’s not the same. Now, you too have someone to come home to. Your days and nights of loneliness are over, and I know in my heart you two will be okay. To Elliot and Vasily.”

The group cheered, and settled back into a celebratory mood. Now, that Rios had cleared the air, Salem felt more relaxed about at least trying to act with less restraint toward Vasily.

“So where you living, Vasily?” Giddy asked.

“Ah, we have house, we…” he paused, and looked over at Salem who’d tensed up at his words, “We have a house on the beach. I purchased it, we took it apart, and we renovate the way we like it to be. You all need to visit, come for party, yes?”

“Hey, Tyson why not do Sunday at their place? What do you say, Tyannikov. Can you be ready by then?”

“Heck, I don’t know.”

“Is ok, Barsukh. We have pool on the beach, plenty of room, and grills and everything.”

“Sure, Tye, let’s do it. I’d love to see Salem’s little love nest.”

“Fuck off, Samantha.” Elliot snapped, but before he could say anymore, Vasily wrapped his arm firmly around his shoulders, and shook him gently.

“Oh, Salem don’t be so rude. What do you say, honey?”

Rios eyed the pair. Vasily was squeezing Elliot’s left shoulder trying to calm him down. It was so awkward having to watch someone else do his job. Job, no this wasn’t Vasily’s job, this was a man’s partner, no, Vasily was _not_ Salem’s partner, he was; so what did that make the Russian?

“Tye, I asked you a question.”

Rios scowled across at Vasily, and sat up a bit straighter. The big man’s arm slipped down from Salem’s shoulders, and settled on his waist, on his hips, his hips that…

“Yo, earth to Tyse, party, our place, it’ll give you a break for a change.”

“Sure, sounds good. Same time. I can just bring the food that’s marinating with me,” and then, in his head, “Get your fucking hand off his ass.”

“Good, we will be ready. We will buy toys for kids, and be all set.”

“We all staying over, like at Tyse’s?”

“Yea M.I.T., same as at Tyse’s. Just at our house. Our house, I like that. Our house. I never had an our house before, just my dumps. Come on Old Bear, I need music. Let’s play the juke box.”

The pair scurried away toward the machine, and after a few minutes their picks began to play. When they’d finished choosing, they moved to the bar to pick up the next round. The third song came on, and Rios, watching the pair at the bar, saw that Salem suddenly perked up, and faced Vasily. He pointed to the juke box, and from across the room Rios read the words upon his lips.

“It’s for me, from me, about me, to you. Listen to the words.”

The fourth verse began, and as Rios watched, Salem stunned him by leaning in kissing Vasily deeply as the words played out.

_These are my words_  
That I've never said before  
I think I'm doin' okay  
And this is the smile  
I've never shown before  
Somebody shake me  
'Cause I, I must be sleeping

 

He broke away, and Rios read his lips again, “I love you. Don’t ever wake me up, okay.”

The big Russian seemed taken aback by the statement, then grasped the smaller man’s face in his hands, nodded his head, and after repeating them rested their foreheads together for a bit before pulling Salem into a tight embrace. Tyson was reeling, but the words of the song blotted out his feelings, and he all could see when he squeezed his eyes shut was the broad, absolutely genuine smile breaking across Elliot’s face.

 

           

**_ Note: _ **

**_ Song Credit: _ **

**_ Staind: _ **

**_ So Far Away _ **

  
_LEWIS, AARRON/MUSHOK, MICHAEL J., JR./WYSOCKI, JONATHAN/APRIL, JOHN F._

 

 


End file.
